


Libidinous Leftovers

by orphan_account



Category: Star Driver: Kagayaki no Takuto
Genre: Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:23:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ship kids are perpetually ready for hedonism, especially now that the vent of approvoising is no longer available.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Libidinous Leftovers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my friend Erin! Enjoy, darling!

If Takashi strains his ears, he can just barely make out the soft ebb and flow of the sea against the yacht, and he subconsciously rubs the sweet oil into Kanako’s skin in time with the ocean. He’s gotten good at this; his first attempts were clumsy and awkward, blind stumblings around a body he could worship but never understand. Now, his sword-callused fingers find each knot and tension area like a sniper’s bullet finds its target, and Kanako’s sweet sighs of relief, murmured into her pillow where she thought they weren’t heard, mean more to him than any payment.

He’s dressed down this evening, in just an untucked white button-up and jeans. Since the failure of the Departure, things around the yacht have become a touch more informal, as if with the loss of their double lives they no longer needed to fake perfection at home. Simone is the same: she’s actually wearing jeans and a Bump of Chicken t-shirt, which is a new height of casual. Neither of them can quite let go of their serving roles, though. Kanako has offered to hire a maid and butler to free up their schedules, but Takashi stubbornly continues to massage Kanako and Simone steam-presses her mistress’ uniforms with a care not at all unlike love.

Simone irons the last crease from Kanako’s blouse and puts it on a cedar hanger in her closet just as Takashi’s treatment reaches down to the exquisite curve of Kanako’s hips. He blows a lock of black hair away from his face and bites his lower lip without thinking, surprised by the sensuality of the image: his fingers gently pressing into the supple expanse of curves that she blossomed into. He reaches for the oil with his right hand and rubs some into the lowest part of her back before using both hands to spread it down the halves of her buttocks that are revealed. A soft white towel prevents further exploration, but Takashi’s left hand does a bizarre thrusting movement—he murmurs _Apprivoiser_ , but no one hears—and the towel is simply gone, pushed to a corner of the room. The smell of ozone tickles his nostrils. The ripe pink of Kanako’s labia minora assaults his eyes.

“Mistress, your ironing is finished. I will be taking my leave.” As usual, Simone is like a ghost. One hardly notices her presence until she speaks, and even then it takes a moment for her words to sink in. Takashi’s eyes flick over to her, and she’s smiling, flushed. She’s not going to be taking her leave anytime soon.

“Really?” said Kanako, with a feigned touch of the gasp to her voice. While she had certainly had sex with both her best friends, it had never involved a practice this ingrained in habit. “I was hoping you might stay and take the drink tray back to the kitchens once Takashi finishes my massage.”

“Yes, mistress.” Simone walks around the bed and reclines on it with her back against the headboard. There’s a frisson of energy crackling through the limbs of the trio, and without words being necessary, the tone of the encounter rapidly undergoes metamorphosis. Simone undoes the button of her jeans and slides her right hand in, stroking Kanako’s hair with the left, and Takashi’s slick fingers find their way to an entirely different slickness, which warms under his touch as Kanako bites the pillow her face is buried in, the slight quiver of her body the only sign betraying her true state.

Kanako turns off the large screen and very slightly spreads her legs.

Takashi is a methodical lover, a careful progression of foreplay to orgasm, rinse and repeat. But there is a libido in him tonight that causes the gears of his machinery to grind harshly, and he moves from a what, on a normal day, would be several minutes of gentle rubs, to grinding his palm against her clitoris hard enough that Kanako’s buttocks move in small circles from the force of his motions. His unoccupied hand finds its way to the pucker of her anal sphincter, and after oiling up a little more, he slides two fingers inside. Kanako, used to the normal progression of events, bucks up against his questing digits, spoiled already for the pleasure their union is giving.

Simone shucks off her jeans; her panties are ruined with moisture, and no longer strictly comfortable. Kanako’s low gasps and moans are beginning to annoy her; there is a much better use for a throat that active, and she thoroughly intends to exploit it. With a brief, whispered forewarning, Simone lifts Kanako’s head from the pillow and slides her slimmer hips into its place, peeling off the her shirt as well and leaving her in a plain white bra. She’ll wait for Takashi to disrobe before giving up her last garment.

Kanako moves her face to the welcoming warmth of the space betwixt Simone’s legs, pressing her nose into the tangle of blonde hair and taking in a deep breath of her scent, taking brief, inquisitive swipes of the tongue in the general direction of Simone’s clitoris. It seems random, but it’s planned; the anticipation of that sharp pleasure exacerbates the sensation when Kanako hits her target. The addition of a single finger, pressed gently into Simone’s waiting nook, quickly reduced Simone to her trademark whimpers.

Takashi begins to feel vaguely uncomfortable, as the only person in the room remaining mostly clothed, and he pulled his fingers and hand away from Kanako, with a little wet noise from the fingers and little strings of moisture following his hand. He hurriedly removes his shirt to reveal a small, lean frame, with slim shoulders but a surprising amount of definition. His black jeans are next to go—like Simone, he isn’t wearing shoes. With the loss of his pants, the bulge in his boxers is instantly pulled to the fore of his attentions, and oil-slick fingers pull his boxers down off of legs shaved for aesthetic. After few quick strokes as a primer, he gets up on the bed and moves in behind the prone Kanako.

Kanako is still enthusiastically pleasuring Simone, having switched to penetrating the smaller girl’s snatch with her tongue and giving light, easy touches to the otherwise abandoned clit; while Simone, having removed her bra and flung it across the room, fists Kanako’s hair and murmurs unintelligible things to her, unaware of anything outside the two of them. Kanako makes a brief noise of surprise, though, when the thick head of Takashi’s member presses against her entrance and, after a brief moment of resistance, slides in. It’s the first physical pleasure Takashi’s had all night, and his eyes water briefly at the rippling pleasure, increasing exponentially the further he goes in.

It’s a foregone conclusion that Kanako is going to be loud and vocal, but Takashi’s change in routine only worsens the problem. Simone’s pleasure stops immediately as Kanako falls back on a series of almost comically inflected moans, deep in her throat and probably loud enough to be heard on the mainland. In mild disgust, Simone moves off the bed and lets Kanako’s head fall back to the pillow.

She’s always been the group’s wild card. Kanako and Takashi are fairly predictable—the former tends to act unaffected until serious pleasure starts, and the latter is something of a service top. But Simone takes whatever path will allow her to extort continuous orgasms for the greatest amount of time, and that path usually involves silicone and lubrication.

Simone opens the lower drawer of Kanako’s nightstand and produces a jet black, double ended strap-on dildo and a small container of petroleum-based lubricant. After carefully applying lube to one end, Simone slides it inside herself, shuddering slightly. A trickle of quim runs down her thigh as she straps it on to herself, leaving her with a large phallus protruding from the front of her body. Takashi gives her a quick glance as as he pulls Kanako’s hips up so she’s on her hands and knees, affording him a slightly better angle.

Simone gives him little warning, climbing up on the bed behind him and slipping a pair of cold, lubed-up fingers into his puckered anus. Takashi yelps and jerks into Kanako, who moans like a prostitute and slams back against him. Simone doesn’t have any trouble slicking him up—he’s taken her more times this way than she’s taken him.

She pushes the dildo up into Takashi’s ass slowly, grinning as she feels him lock up. He always acts like a deer in headlights when she first penetrates him, but before long, he’s going even harder than before. Takashi twitches inside Kanako, and the world stands still.

There it is, of course—marks glow bright blue on the collarbones of all three Star Drivers, and they realize for a brief moment that they’re more than Simone, Takashi, and Kanako; they’re Daletos, Saddict, and Betrader, and the libido they can no longer manifest into glorious form has to come out somehow. These thoughts and more race through minds more powerful by way of ancient alien technology, and then Simone turns on the vibration and the moment shatters.

Takashi’s the one doing the whimpering, now, and he’s being rammed into Kanako’s generous curves with each hard thrust from Simone, then leaning back into Simone who drives him back forward, the ribbing on the dildo and the vibration turning him into a shuddering mess. His palpitations hardly count as thrusts any longer. On the contrary, he’s jerking in a forward direction, the angle of each thrust a mystery to the girl beneath him.

The blazing libido rising up in them with the glow of their marks compels Takashi’s right hand up and down, smacking an angry red mark onto Kanako’s left buttock. This draws another passionate moan from Kanako, and Takashi needs no further encouragement. Through the haze of penetrative pleasure from both sides, he spanks Kanako without holding back, hoping dimly to leave a bruise she’ll be reminded of when she sits down at school.

Simone’s hips are below Takashi’s, thrusting up into his ass, while her dainty hands held on to his skinny waist and pulled him down into her, hitting his prostate with an accuracy that had nothing to do with luck.

Kanako comes suddenly, a series of rapid clenches and ear-splitting groans the only warning anyone gets. Quim drips from the union between herself and Takashi—as usual, everything the mistress does is done in excess.

Simone is ready for this, and she pulls out of Takashi, ignoring his high-pitched whine at the loss of stimulation. Kanako is pliable and suggestible after orgasm, much less independent, and Simone takes advantage of this to flip the high school wife over onto her back and slid her so her head was between Takashi’s legs. Then, with a critical eye, Simone pushed Takashi down until his face was pressed into the mattress and his rear was high, presented to her like a platter of food by a servant.

“Suck his dick,” hisses Simone, and Kanako sleepily obeys. By now she is nearly over her orgasm, but there is something of the empress about Simone that demands obedience. Kanako takes the length of him, still slick with her own juices, into her mouth, breathing carefully through her nose and slurping loudly, just to ensure her contributions would not be overlooked.

Simone takes hold of Takashi, lines up, and pushes back into him, and Takashi releases a cry that would not  be out of place in Kanako’s mouth. Simone’s hard thrusts, intended to fuck Takashi into the mattress, have the desirable side effect of pushing Takashi’s member further into Kanako’s mouth and throat. Kanako is used to this, though, and there is little gagging or discomfort.

The only sounds now are those of carnal ecstasy: the slap of hips on buttocks, the gasps of breath from tiring bodies working at full capacity, the low, wet gurgle of saliva and tongue around the hardness of a phallus, and the light squelching of a mistress fingering herself beneath the people she loves.

Simone, gasping but never relenting, comes first, thrusting fast and shallow into Takashi as at last the vibration makes her knees weak. Takashi feeds off of her libido and comes into Kanako’s mouth; she swallows, although she abhors the taste, simply because there is nowhere to move and no other option. _At least_ , she reflects, _his diet ensures that it tastes better than usual_. Kanako brings herself to climax with thoughts of the come she swallowed pleasing Takashi, and they all fall into a tangle of limbs, rising chests, and sighs of contentment.

Simone is the first to recover. She pulls her jeans and t-shirt back on without bothering with underwear, nipples poking boldly through the fabric, and collects her panties and bra stoically.

“Good night, mistress,” she says with a small bow, and leaves with a small wink at Takashi that means an invitation to her quarters. She knows Kanako will be watching them, and she eagerly awaits it. Nights are long when you cannot sleep. The drinks tray remains on the nightstand, a small defiance.

Takashi makes up the bed over Kanako, and only puts on his boxers and shirt before leaving, pausing only to plant a kiss on Kanako’s forehead before scurrying off to Simone’s room.

In the darkness, a prince of gators stirs.

The galaxy is shining.

 

 


End file.
